Once Upon a Dream (rough draft)

Prologue to ‘Once Upon A Reality’

Prologue: Once Upon A Dream

Angela was a girl who tended to have vivid, troublesome dreams but the night when one barked behind her back for a good half hour and then bit her, she decided it was time to tell her parents.

"Oh mother dearest," she said in her sweetest voice "I seem to have been rather badly bitten by a growling dream in a studded collar. I don't think he liked the way I meowed so at the moon."

All of this was quite truthful, and empathetic, of her, as indeed the dream did not like the way she meowed at all, at the moon or otherwise. Although, if the dream's owner had been asked what he was, the reply would have been "A dog!" Or, more likely it would have been "Get away from me, idiot! Anyone can see it's a dog." As both answers are much alike, however, we shall leave the matter lay.

If the dream had been asked what it was he would have likewise replied that it was a dog and this would have been just as trutfhul, by his perceptions, though, in fact, he would have thought you were asking about his owner. For the dream had never quite gotten the knack of the English, or any human, language as the structure is quite odd compared to the thinking patterns of his race and so whenever the owner would say "Come on doggy, wanna go for a walk?" he was quite sure it was a plea, not a command or offer.
"Come on! " the dog would plead in it's cutesy voice "Doggy wanna go for a walk! Shall owner take doggy for a walk?" and he, the dream aka: Owner, would generally bark his assent.


Angela's mother knew nothing about the dream, the owner, language barriers as they related to canines, or what was wrong with her daughter, though she suspected it was a lot. For while her daughter was most certainly bleeding and looked a bit chewed on, all the dogs were out in the yard on their chains as they had been every night, since the great chicken escapades of 1974 and they certainly would have let it be known if another had come slinking around.

The kitten , whom the dream had really been barking at, knew who everyone was; laughed mockingly at the stupidity of both dogs and owners of the same; and was sure as to exactly what was wrong with Angela. In fact, what was wrong with Angela Erskine Gracile was as well taught in the kitten schools throughout the world as once had been taught what was wrong with Joan of Arc and, of course, what was wrong with Napoleon. Which is only fitting, if you think about it, since they were all, strangely enough, the same person. Though, even more strangely, something was even wronger with Angela as she had utterly failed to be born as French.

The kitten peered through the portal to the bed where the girl had lain so recently and twitched it's ears back as it thought with displeasure of her having disturbed his taunting of the dog by rolling over, falling out of bed on top of them both, and then running away. "Humans!" thought the kitten. "You can't live with them and yet good help is so hard to find."

Turning back to the dog, he meowed up at the moon once more, meowed a more tittering tone at the hound's face, and pounced through the portal right before it's closure.

"Oh I say" said Mrs. Erskine "It was no dream that bit you, Angie dear. Look here: it's a nice little Tabby cat hiding in your room! Now how did it get there?"

Mrs. Erskine carried the kitten into the living room and sat in her rocking chair, sighing with relief. "It wasn't her that done that to herself, Tabby," she crooned, petting the cat though it was obvious to them both that she did it for her own comfort. "You must have been scared, being alone in a strange house, and she must have rolled off the bed on top of you. Then you gave her a scratch or maybe a bite." Mrs. Erskine thought again of the amount of blood and the deepness of the wounds and her mind started to reject her theory so she quickly interpolated, before the damage could be done: "Or both! It must have been both. My you'll be a mighty mouse hunter with such a bite to you already!"

"Yes, idiot human female, " thought the kitten who had the misfortune of recently being named Tabby "I have the same bite circumference as a 210 pound Mastiff named Frankie."

"Yes, " thought Frankie, having noted the absence of the kitten. "I hope it's picked up by some nice dog who will take it to the special place where they like to have their owners genitals snipped off. Not only that but I hope they name it something stupid like 'Tabby'. "

In this reality, Frankie's hope was realized and so we bid adeiu to the dream that started us off and jouney deeper in to the place where the strangeness beyond the madness of dreams lays.